


The Only Truth That Sticks

by reginahalliwell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, F/M, Fix-It, Gap Filler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginahalliwell/pseuds/reginahalliwell
Summary: Open-ended sort of fix-it fic that takes place during "The Last of the Starks" and puts Jaime and Brienne on more even ground.





	The Only Truth That Sticks

It was too good to be true, Brienne thought. She couldn’t be this happy. Protecting her lady and aiding in the rebuilding of Winterfell by day, and falling into the arms of her lover Jaime Lannister at night. Their newfound intimacy was more than she could have ever imagined was possible for her, and Brienne found that she regretted nothing. Yes, her maidenhood was gone, but she had gained something far better in exchange. 

Besides, Ser Brienne of Tarth was beyond reproach. She had the trust of the Lady of Winterfell, whose word was law to all those she ruled, and being Jaime’s surety had never once caused her concern. The former Kingsguard kept a low profile, though it became clear to anyone with eyes that something had deepened in their partnership. Their twin swords were the least of the outward signs of this union, their knowing glances and easy intimacy around one another demonstrating to all that Brienne was Jaime’s and Jaime hers. Brienne’s besotted gaze turned to him often, and more surprisingly his to her, to the scrutiny of all in the North. 

Poor Tormund had seen quickly that he had lost any chance he once may have had, and returned North of the Wall, though Brienne scarcely noticed. 

It was too easy to fall into the rhythms of this new life and ignore all the significance of the war outside the Winterfell walls. While many had already gone south, news came every day to apprise Sansa of their progress, concerns, and casualties. 

Though none expected the battle to go easily, it was a surprise to everyone when the green dragon fell so suddenly, Euron’s fleet stronger than any of them had imagined.

Jaime had no particular affection for the dragons, or the Targaryen queen, but even he knew that with only one beast left and a much reduced ground force, their chances of defeating Cersei were dwindling. King’s Landing was a fortified city, and its many battles over the ages had only improved its defensibility, even – or particularly – against dragons. 

Still, Brienne could see that something weighed on her lover. Jaime’s demeanor after his interruption of Sansa relaying the news to her was tellingly guarded. She knew he was deep in thought, assessing the significance of the shift in advantage. It affected his every move, and when they sparred later than day, he was so absent-minded that she almost seriously harmed him. There was something he was not telling her, perhaps because he wasn’t sure of it yet, but more likely because he wanted to hide it from her. 

Still, when Jaime slipped out of bed in the early hours of the morning, Brienne assumed he had to visit the toilet.

When he came back, but neglected to return to her bed and instead began to quietly dress himself, Brienne knew something was going on.

Jaime Lannister was a sweet talker – and very adept at _certain_ other things, she had to admit – but he was not exactly graceful when it came to dressing himself. She listened as he changed into fresh smallclothes, the fabric scraping against his skin in the silence of the room. She lay there calmly as he tried to tie the front of his trousers, to pull the tunic over his head one-handed. She waited as the leather of his coat bunched his sleeves and he picked at them to help them lay straight.

When Jaime sat down in the chair to pull on his boots, Brienne knew she had to act. 

As nonchalantly as she could, Brienne stood up and reached to her own stash of washed linens, picking up fresh smallclothes and the tunic and leggings she tended to wear under her armor. “So, where are we going?” she asked, not looking at her lover as he turned to gape at her. 

This time, she was the one who acted like this was normal, and he the one desperately confused awaiting some explanation.

Brienne shucked her shift and began to change, unconcerned with her nudity in this moment. As soon as she had the smallclothes on, she looked over and noticed that the fire was dying down.

With Jaime still silent in the chair, Brienne casually went about tending the fire, adding a few more logs and prodding it until she was satisfied. She returned to her clothing, pulling on her leggings and calculatingly slipping into a tunic, which she tied silently before looking up at her bedfellow.

“Well, what are you waiting on? If you’re hoping to leave before dawn, we’ll still need to get the horses saddled.”

Jaime continued to stare at her. “Brienne, I—” he began, before she cut him off. 

“What, did you think you wouldn’t wake me? You are many things, Jaime Lannister, but a fool is not one of them.” She pulled her own boots on before coming around to the chair on which he was still seated, mouth agape.

She knelt down and helped him with his other boot, then straightened his tunic on his left wrist where the gilded steel hand was unable to work the fabric effectively.

“I’m not a child,” he protested.

“Then stop acting like one,” Brienne shot back, “And take help where it’s needed.”

Jaime shut up. When Brienne finished situating his sleeve and started to pull her hand away, Jaime’s fingers caught her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted, but she refused to look him in the eyes. 

“I’m assuming you’re headed to King’s Landing?” Brienne asked, ignoring him. She reached for her scabbard where Oathkeeper hung by the fireside, next to Jaime’s own Widow’s Wail. The two swords aside one another gave the knight a moment of pause. “Well?” the recently knighted Ser Brienne asked again as she turned to face Jaime, buckling on her sword belt.

He hung his head, but answered, “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh,” she said in mock surprise, “So you’re _not_ going to try and kill your sister?”

Again, Jaime could only stare at her. “How did you know?”

“Jaime, despite evidence to the contrary,” she said, gesturing to their current situation of him attempting to abandon her in the middle of the night. “You _are_ a good man. I saw your reaction when Sansa told us the news.” 

“I have to kill her, Brienne. She’ll let that city burn to the ground, taking everyone with her. She’ll never give up her crown. I don’t even know that the Dragon Queen could stop her.”

“You think the woman who has conquered most of Essos and who still has one fully grown dragon, an army of Unsullied, and most of the North at her back can’t defeat Cersei, but you can?” Brienne asked, her tone derisive but not cruel. Brienne had been waiting years to have this man, and now she wasn’t going to let him go so easily.

His face looked wounded anyway, and she realized her own pain in this moment wouldn’t make anything better. But Brienne was known for her honesty, and she would not mince words with the man she loved. 

“I thought I could go back to her, pretend that I’m rejoining her cause. Then, I think I could find a way to end her. I have to.” Jaime explained, trying to get her to understand, to believe that he had to go and do this. 

“Even if I believed for a moment that you could pretend to forgive her after everything she’s done to you, I doubt Cersei herself would believe it. She’s too paranoid for that. Besides, I hear she’s passing your child off as Euron Greyjoy’s, and I doubt she’ll want to risk losing the Iron Fleet.” 

“You may be right about that,” Jaime said, wiping his face with his hand. “Cersei’s never knowingly kept any children besides mine, but she’s done her fair share of passing them off on other fathers. She did it with Robert, and now with Euron.”

“You don’t have to die there with her, Jaime. I know she was once your everything, but you don’t have to let her take you down with her.”

“Don’t I?” he asked. “So much of what Cersei is, I helped her become. Don’t I owe this world a debt for exposing them to this monster?”

“Perhaps,” Brienne conceded.

“A Lannister always pays his debts,” Jaime murmured quietly.

“But there are better ways to pay it.” Brienne could think of a few ways he already had.

“Cersei has to die,” Jaime protested. “If I can do nothing else but rid the world of her, I’ll have at least done something.”

“One regicide is more than enough for a lifetime.” Brienne was getting desperate as their conversation escalated. The idea of losing this man that she had fallen so deeply for was unthinkable, that he might be slipping away from her despite her best efforts to hold onto him. 

“Well then, what do you suggest?” he demanded in exasperation, noting that they were both fully dressed and practically yelling at each other in the middle of the night.

“Right now, I suggest you come back to bed.” She wanted to drag him there with her, so desperate was she to keep him here with her. 

“And Cersei?”

“Will not be coming to my bed,” Brienne joked, trying to lighten the tone. When Jaime gave her a haunted look that said he was in no mood for humor, Brienne admitted, “I have it on good authority that someone is on their way to King’s Landing right now to deal with her.”

“What? Who? She’s surround by guards within the Red Keep, she’s got that silent oaf following her everywhere she goes, and Qyburn devising new ways to keep her safe all the time. Who in the seven hells could kill her?”

“Arya Stark.” 

Jaime put his face in his hands. “So we’re really putting all our faith in a little girl?”

Brienne’s sharp look made him rethink his statement. 

“Arya can take care of herself,” Brienne reminded him. “I underestimated her more than once, and I won’t do so again.”

Surprised, Jaime looked hard at her. “Still, there’s no guarantee…”

“Look around us, Jaime. We shouldn’t even be alive right now. There’s no guarantee either of us will see spring arrive. But isn’t it better we spend whatever time is left together?” Brienne second-guessed herself, doubting the implication she had just made. “I mean, if that’s also what you want.”

“Oh, Brienne,” Jaime sighed, seeing the doubt on her face. “Of course it’s what I want. But it’s not what I deserve. Cersei pulled me into this world, and I should drag her out of it.”

“And what about what I deserve, Jaime Lannister? What about what I want?” Brienne’s strength found her again, and her words showed increased conviction, though she had tears brimming in her eyes.

“You deserve better than an old cripple who fucks his sister,” he told her sadly.

“I wasn’t aware you were still fucking her,” Brienne countered, and Jaime winced.

“I’m always going to be tainted by my indiscretions. I’m a kingslayer, a sisterfucker. She carries my child as we speak,” he reminded her. Brienne only had to count backwards to know how recently he had once again fucked his sister. 

“You may have once been those things, but now you are so much more,” Brienne told him, trying to convince herself as much as him. 

“Only to you, Brienne.” 

“Even if that were true, is not one person’s opinion enough? You would allow a thousand people who barely know you to judge you better than I could? Do you think so low of me that I would stoop to be with a dishonorable man? That I would dishonor myself?”

His expression was pained, as though his answer would only cause more strife. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure why she had chosen him. He doubted her sanity, perhaps, but never her honor.

“I see,” Brienne said when she received no response. “You thought you had soiled my honor with your lack of it.”

“I know I have, wench,” he said, returning to his old moniker for her. “You’re no longer a maid because of me.”

“True,” she agreed, “But I _am_ a knight because of you, and I’m no longer in need of rescuing. But perhaps you are, Jaime. And I am trying to save you from yourself.” 

“And what if you can’t?” he asked. “What if I go anyway?”

The moment held longer than it had any right to, and Brienne wasn’t sure if this was the end. If it was, she could cherish the many moments they had together even as she mourned their lack of a future. 

“I’m not your captor anymore,” Brienne said, her eyes welling up. “I won’t beg you and I won’t fight you. I won’t keep you here against your will. If you want to go, to kill her, or to be with her, then go.” 

The look in her eyes nearly broke him. Jaime couldn’t bear to part with this woman, couldn’t bear to disappoint her, again, to prove everyone else right. But he didn’t know if he could prove Brienne right, either.

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is deliberately left open-ended because the best stories are ones that don't end. 
> 
> Note that parts of this were written before watching 8x05 "The Bells," and parts after, so my apologies if the tone jumps radically from hopeful to cynical. Thank you for reading!


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